


Never Enough

by KillerGirlFuria



Category: Overlord - Maruyama Kugane & Related Fandoms
Genre: Casual World Domination, F/F, Found Family, Friendly Rivalry, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hobbyist Villainy, M/M, Monster characters, Stuck in Game, Team Bonding, Team Fluff, Team as Family, ace/aro character, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 09:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14638746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillerGirlFuria/pseuds/KillerGirlFuria
Summary: As a last attempt to reconcile the friendship that bound them so tightly once upon a time, Jubokko, Ainz Ooal Gown’s resident quirky wendigo assassin, spams life’s worth of Momonga’s notification about the last meeting of the guild to other members, and somehow some of them manage to see it and find time to log in one last time. Game still shuts down, of course, and they still get stranded. But taking over the world is so much more fun with friends!And maybe, just maybe, they can learn to live a little, just once, in a world where the sky is the limit.Or let’s just do a full-blown villainy, mad cackling and all, why the fuck not.





	Never Enough

**Author's Note:**

> _I'm trying to hold my breath | Let it stay this way | Can't let this moment end | You set off a dream in me | Getting louder now | Can you hear it echoing? | Take my hand | Will you share this with me? | 'Cause darling without you_
> 
> _All the shine of a thousand spotlights | All the stars we steal from the night-sky | Will never be enough [...]_
> 
> _[...]Towers of gold are still too little | These hands could hold the world but it'll | Never be enough [...]_
> 
> ***
> 
> This is a new take on Overlord with my favorite Overlord trope; Momonga gets stranded in New World with other Ainz Ooal Gown members who came in and decided to hang out with him until midnight struck. Also features guild member OC, Jubokko, a wendigo assassin, and a NPC OC, her creation, Seraphim Mikail. She’s not a central character of the story, as I try to give everyone fair amounts of love, but there’s a lot of her, on the principle of her being the character I understand the best.
> 
> It's basically a ‘other players get stranded with’ and ‘everybody loves Momonga’ fic. Poor guy really deserves a big group hug and a cuddle pile for all he’s done for them.
> 
>  
> 
> **Updates irregularly if at all. Sorry.**

_sic transit gloria mundi_

 [22:34:26]

**|Ding!|**

 [User **Herohero** has gone Offline.]

“Where the hell do you plan on meeting again,” a skeleton in ornate robes sitting by a massive oval table whispered, before slamming his bony fists on the table’s surface, miraculously not dealing it any damage to neither him nor the furniture. “What the hell?! This is the Great Tomb of Nazarick, where we created out guild. How can you abandon it like tha-?”

**|Ding!|**

 [User **Jubokko** has come Online.]

“Huh?” the skeleton looks up sharply, his previous outburst all but forgotten as he stares in amazement where spark of pixels whirls, expanding and shaping into gangly, humanoid, armor-clad form. He almost can’t believe his eyes. True, Jubokko lasted the longest, but even she eventually gave up. But then, her three-months-long hiatus was nothing in comparison with some other guild members.

Some left completely, their equipment deposited in the Mausoleum on their respective Avatara Golems, only thing stopping them from fully deleting their characters being his insistent pleading.

_~~Touch Me, Wish III, Flatfoot, Punitto Moe, Whitebrim-~~ _

Only he, Jubokko, Herohero and Tabula Smaragdina remained. Well, Herohero deposited his gear today, as his final tribute to the guild in the last hours of YGGDRASIL – therefore now there was only three of them left, of which only he really played. He hasn’t seen Tabula for months, lost buried under responsibilities of his accounting job that could’ve been counted in metric tons.

If he was to point a blame, it would be at real life. He hated it. He hated reality for being such a cruel, bitter bitch.

“Momo-chan, you’re here!” the gangly, emaciated wendigo squeals in decidedly feminine voice, sending heart emoticons to float above her avatar. Momonga feels like crying. He stands up abruptly, closing the distance between their avatars and all but throws himself into interaction [ **Hug** ].

“Hey,” he says after a while, imagining how would it feel to really snuggle into his friend’s cold, undead body, just as skeletal as his, if still having skin – all bones, leather armor, metal buckles and soft cotton. Jubokko reciprocates the [ **Hug** ] without a word, and her sigh sounds nostalgic, almost sad.

“I can’t even begin to say how sorry I am for not being here for the past few months,” Jubokko says quietly. “But my good-for-nothing father finally died, I had to organize funeral and all, pretend that I cared for this piece of shit that was either gone or drunk and abusive. God, it was straining. And then I heard YGGDRASIL was closing. I guess that was the nail to the coffin, heh, heh.”

Leave it to Jubokko, to find humor in the worst of the worst. She was morbid like that.

“Ah, so you said. It’s okay, really. Quite a shame that you had to be the one organizing it all,” he says, and imagines patting her back reassuringly. For all of YGGDRASIL’s innovative technology, it was still limited, by both already-outdated engines, and the law itself. It couldn’t have been ‘too real’, after all, or people wouldn’t want to leave. “Didn’t he really have any other family? I know your mother is dead, but I thought you had an older brother.”

“Oh, that guy,” Jubokko scoffs. “Yeah, no, he moved to America years ago and cut off all contact, remember? Other than that, old man had nobody, and as much as I would have loved to leave him to rot in a sewer- Eh, whatever. What have you been up to, Momo-chan? Anybody online except for us?”

“Ah, no. Herohero was here few minutes ago, though.”

[22:44:59]

“Nobody other than that at all?” Uh-oh, she sounds annoyed. “Aw come on, assholes, they said they’d come!”

“Um, ‘they’? Who-” Momonga asks, but an unmistakable sound cuts whatever else he wanted to say.

**|Ding!|**

 [User **Nishkirenai** has come Online.]

“Oh, here we go! Were they waiting for me or what?”

**|Ding!|**

[User **Tabula Smaragdina** has come Online.]

Momonga couldn’t really believe his eyes as the half-golem and brain eater materialized from pixel sparks, Tabula in his usual gear but Nishki, having deposited his items, wearing nothing but cotton tunic and loose pants, his golem features adding his overall human appearance very statuesque vibe, like marble sculptures. It was odd, seeing him not covered from head to toe in dark fabric. Few have seen his avatar without the ninja gear, after all.

“Tabbu, Nishki!” he calls, widely-smiling emoji popping above his avatar before he even makes a conscious decision to use it. He finally lets go of Jubokko and moves over to his other guildmates. “I can’t believe you’re actually here!”

“Momo-chi!” Nishki cheers.

“Momonga,” Tabula acknowledges their Guild Master. “Hello to you too, Jubokko.”

“You guys! I really didn’t think anyone would come!” Momonga says, and it comes out a tad broken. He’s this close to crying, really, because he never thought he’d really meet any of his friends _~~family~~_ again.

“Frankly, I think I would have missed your e-mail, buried under my work notifications,” Tabula admits with embarrassments tinging his voice, “but Jubokko took it upon herself to do nothing but spam us with its copies for the last few days.”

“Don’t you have a life?” Nishki grumbles, but all the wendigo does is flash emote with tongue sticking out at him.

“If it’s for Momo-chan, then I have no regrets!” she exclaims loudly. “I will gladly spam you until out dear planet implodes because out of sheer hate towards humans, if it means I get Momo-chan to smile!”

“Ugh... Okay, I guess I can get behind that.”

“Ha!”

[22:48:11]

**|Ding!| |Ding!|**

[User **Peroroncino** has come Online.] [User **Bukubukuchagama** has come Online.]

“Ah! Peropero, Buku!” Momonga cheers, turning on his heel to face where the slime and avian spawn in flash of pixels. They, too, left their equipment in Mausoleum, and while it doesn’t affect Bukubukuchagama slime avatar’s appearance at all, it’s just as weird to see Peroroncino in all his avian glory, without his golden armor, as it is to see Nishki without his ninja suit.

“Momooo-chaaaan!” the avian cheers and pounces at the skeleton without prompting, initiating [ **Hug** ], which Momonga happily reciprocates. “Momo-chan, I missed you so much, I can’t believe it has been so long~! I missed you so, so much!”

“No suspicious moves, you fucking deviant, I’m watching you!” Buku scolds him nearly instantly, pink blob shaking dangerously, but Momonga just laughs, imagining how it would be to actually nuzzle in his friend’s very visibly soft, sand-colored feathers. If he had to rank avatars he’d like to hug in real life, Pero and his feathers placed as unmatched number one, always. Not that difficult, since his only real runner-up was Ulbert. He hoped Ulbert would show up, too – for the first time today it seemed like it wasn’t necessarily in vain.

“Aw come on sis! I would never compromise precious Momo’s innocence!”

“Peroroncino,” Tabula sighs. “We know you a much too well to actually believe this statement to be anything other than bold-faced lie.”

“It’s alright,” Momonga says easily. “I don’t mind. I... Missed this. Missed you. All of you.”

“Momo-chan! I knew you loved me!” Pero cooes happily, and skeleton sighs.

“I love all of you, you idiots,” he mumbles, finally letting his avian friend go. “Thank you so much for coming. Will you wait until midnight with me?”

“Well, that’s what we’re here for, ain’t we!” Bukubukuchagama laughs, and Momonga still feels like crying in happiness. “It’s the least we can do, _Momonga-oniichan_ ~!” pink slime says, changing her voice when referring to him, to sound like a young girl. Ah, voice actors and their secrets.

“That was unnecessarily erotic, sis!” Pero squawks.

“Only for you and only because all you play are H-Games, you moron!” his sister retaliates instantly.

“Hey, can you not argue?” Nishki cuts in. “If me and Jubokko can behave like civilized people for a moment in each other’s vicinity, so can you!”

“Yeah! For once I’m not even taunting him!” wendigo agrees. “Remember, it’s for Momo-chan!”

“Okay!” the siblings chorus like two children, and Momonga squawks, blushing emoticon floating above his head before he even makes a conscious decide to use it.

“You don’t seem to particularly mind, though,” Tabula notices, moving to stand by the skeleton.

“No,” Momonga agrees. “I missed this, you know. I missed you. All of you, so much you won’t believe. This... This is all I ever wanted, really. For you to come back, even for a moment. It’ll be just a memory in the morning, but-“

“Let’s make this last hour count, shall we?” Tabula says. “We probably won’t really be in contact after this. Real life sucks all of your will to life. To think we will irrevocably return to it past midnight.”

“Yeah. Um, really. Thank you for coming – I didn’t really expect anybody to be here today.”

“You have Jubokko to thank for that. I wouldn’t have noticed your email if she hadn’t spammed it all over my mailbox.”

“Hah,” Tabula chuckles. “Persistent and annoying in the name of ‘higher purpose’. Sounds just like Sonic the Wendigo we all know and love.”

[22:55:46]

**|Ding!|**

 [User **Yamaiko** has come Online.]

“Yama-chan!” Bukubukuchagama cheers at the glowing pixels that materialize into menacingly looming form of the Nephilim. While also effectively gearless, Yamaiko easily towers over everyone in nothing but simple gray monk robes. Also it should be mentioned that Nephilim, as a fruit of cursed union of angels and demons, weren’t particularly... Easy on eyes. Yamaiko was a truly amazing person, but it really couldn’t have been decided based on first impression, when she looked like particularly nasty hybrid between skeleton and insectoid, with glowing, sickly-yellow eyes.

“Buku-chan!” and wasn’t it weird to see the massive goliath and a pink slime hug. Huh. “Momo-chan, hello! And Ju, Pero, Tabbu and Nishki. I didn’t expect so many people this late!”

“Neither did I, yet here you are,” Momonga says as evenly as he can. He won’t cry. He won’t, absolutely won’t, no matter how much he just wants to bawl his eyes in happiness at the fact that his friends, despite real life, and work, and everything else, still managed to come online. Even those who nearly fully deleted their avatars!

“I’m sorry I’m late, though,” Yamaiko says sheepishly when Buku finally lets go of her. “I was grading tests until now. Let me tell you, High School students are really just one extremely difficult patience test. They are the worst, and their answer-“

“Breathe in, Yama-chan, and breathe out,” Buku says, and Yamaiko follows the instruction audibly.

“I live on stress, grease and coffee lately,” she whines.

“Oh, you finally found work in high school instead of elementary?” Tabula notices. True, now that Momonga thinks about it, she indeed had used to be elementary school teacher.

“Yes, since this year. And trust me, I’m regretting my life choices.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Jubokko says with a very audible shiver in her voice. “I was so ridiculously stupid when I was a teen. Bad memories, really. So much bad memories.”

“Please, who wasn’t stupid in their teens?” Nishki scoffs.

“I bet Momo-chan wasn’t!” Peroroncino cuts in, and others offer various sounds of agreement. Momonga can feel skin of his real body heating up in embarrassment.

“Hey you guys, aren’t you painting me as some sort of a saint here?” he squawks, sparking a round of good-natured chuckles.

“Well, you are a saint, Momo-chan!” Buku interjects. “You and Yama-chan, really. We don’t deserve you two, at all.”

“Not even a little, sis?” Peroroncino asks.

“Especially not you, you evil deviant!” Buku snaps at her brother, but without any real heat. “I know you, just waiting to taint pure soul of our Momo-chan with your perverted ways!”

“You wound me, sister!” the avian wails dramatically, spamming any and all of the distressed emojis he can possibly find in the interface.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Momonga says exasperatedly.

[23:01:50]

**|Ding!|**

 [User **Warrior Takemikazuchi** has come Online.]

“Take-yan!” Nishki animates instantly, just as his – very likely – best friend in whole guild, and a fellow daredevil, spawns in shower of pixels. Those two really used to give whoever was team healer a run for their money, all the time. Actually, usually it was Yamaiko. Speaking of which, as a fellow Nephilim, Takemikazuchi was also massive in posture, perhaps even more than Yamaiko herself. Instead of his samurai armor – now resting with his Avatara in Mausoleum – he wore loose brown kimono. His face, with it’s smooth, polished bone, four horns protruding from it, small holes serving as eyes and lipless grin full of sharp teeth was no novelty, however, as he didn’t tend to hide it under hats, coats, shawls or otherwise hoods. Even his samurai helmet has open face.

“Ken-ya!” Takemikazuchi cheers in his loud, booming voice, initiating [ **Hug** ] with the half-golem. Was it real life, the Nephilim would probably have crushed the (quite literally) chiseled humanoid.

While Momonga knew where ‘Take-yan’ came from, it always mystified him how did Takemikazuchi come up with calling Nishkirenai ‘Ken-ya’. Oddly enough, the warrior himself didn’t seem to know, either – one day, he just started calling Nishki that, and it stuck.

“Wow, we actually managed to get three out of original Nine. Color me astonished,” Jubokko says next to Momonga, watching as warrior and her fellow assassin interact, as animatedly as their avatars allow them. There was a lot of emoticons flying, but nobody bothered to interrupt them. Outside of Bukubukuchagama and Yamaiko, those two shared the closest bond, after all.

“Yeah,” Momonga agrees. “I’m not surprised it’s these two, though. Remaining six were quite adamant about not coming back.”

“Um, Momo-chan-“

“It’s okay Ju,” he cuts her off. “It’s just... I miss Touch Me, okay? It’s hard to not to miss the very first friend I made here. Or, really, ever.”

“I understand,” she says. “It’s hard being alone. But you get buried under real life stuff, work, monotony. It saps the life out of you. Sometimes, when I get back from work, I have no determination left at all. I just feel like lying in bed and doing nothing, forever.”

“Oh, I know how that is,” skeleton sighs. “Work, sleep, eat. There’s nothing more to do in this broken, polluted world, really. I don’t know what I’ll do once YGGDRASIL is gone.”

He rubs at his temples, even if he doesn’t actually feel it, trying very hard to forget that the game he spent so much in, made his friends in, will cease to exist in less than an hour.

“Me neither,” Jubokko mutters. “I always operated with the mindset that I can always just jump back in and drag you out on a murder spree. What will I do now? Mope all the time I’m not at work? Probably.”

“Honestly, same,” Momonga admits easily. “I’m either at work, sleeping or in YGGDRASIL. Take last one out, and the prospects you are left with aren’t particularly endearing. Is it too late to become a cactus?”

“Probably,” she shrugs just as Takemikazuchi decides that he’s done smothering Nishki for now and finally turns his attention towards the Guild Master.

“Momo!” the Nephilim cheers and proceeds to unceremoniously smother the skeleton with affection, just like he had with Nishki.

Momonga was feeling slightly overwhelmed by now.

And deliriously happy.

Everybody liked Momonga, and that was a fact. If that weren’t the case, they sure as hell wouldn’t have completely unanimously voted him as Ainz Ooal Gown’s guildmaster. Actually, Momonga himself was the only one who voted for anybody else, much to his embarrassment – but then, him voting for Touch Me to get the mantle wasn’t at all surprising. It also said a lot about the man behind the skeleton, when all current as of then members (almost thirty players when they conquered Nazarick) so easily put him in the position with the most power, over their resources, and everything they created, gathered and conquered – NPCs and landscapes included. They just assumed he would be the last one to abuse his power. They were right, of course.

And that was no joke, they even had extremists – such as Tabula, who was absolutely, deeply convinced that if someone other became guildmaster, Ainz Oooal Gown would tear itself apart, and so he’s much rather join different guild. With Momonga in tow, of course. Probably it would have been largely overlooked, but with Bellriver and Punitto Moe – two more members of intellectual elite of the guild – wholeheartedly backing the claim, something must’ve been true about the statement. At least that’s what everybody else decided.

If they were right, nobody knew, because Momonga was chosen the guildmaster by a nearly-unanimous vote of him choosing Touch Me vs everybody else choosing him, which flustered the skeleton to no end.

[23:12:32]

**|Ding!|**

 [User **Ulbert Alain Oodle** has come Online.]

“Ulbert!” Momonga all but shouts in mixture of joy and surprise from where Takemikazuchi has him locked in a bear hug. Ulbert, bless his dramatic goat self, spawns with a flourish, low-level but immaculate suit instead of his maxed gear giving him an appearance of a businessman who just got out of a gala. He looks odd to Momonga, though, without his signature half-mask covering right side of his goat face, or the overly dramatic, flowing black cape with a rose on the shoulder. The fellow magic caster just didn’t look complete without them.

Not dramatic enough, really.

“Momo-chan, I’m starting to think you’re playing favorites!” Peroroncino whiles, crying emoji floating above avian’s avatar.

“Of course I’m his favorite!” Ulbert says briskly, flashing grinning emoticon right in archer’s face. “He does have standards, after all!”

“Like hell you’re his favorite, you wheel of edgy goat cheese!” Pero squawks in agitation. “Momo-chan, is he? Is heeee?”

“Well...” Momonga sighs, finally letting go of Takemikazuchi who doesn’t bother hiding his amusement at the exchange, and turns towards the duo. “’Berto is my fellow magic caster,” he says carefully.

“Magic bros before hoes! In your face, chicken wings!” Ulbert crows, and skeleton sighs in fond exasperation at these two idiots. His idiots. Actually, his favorite idiots.

“What? Nooo! I shan’t be ousted by mobile cheddar! Momo-chaaaaan!”

“Here it is,” Yamaiko chuckles. “Can you tell they’re good friends by looking at them?”

“If you skip their rivalry over who is Momo-chan’s favorite then yes, I can,” Bukubukuchagama answers simply. “A villain and a pervert. I fear for Momo-chan and his innocence!”

“I’m hardly innocent, you know,” Momonga grumbles dejectedly. “And I don’t mind.”

“Hey, guys, I have an idea!” Jubokko uses [ **Megaphone** ] to [ **Shout** ] at the online guild members, her reinforced voice easily cutting through the commotion. It works, even on Pero and Ulbert, and soon enough everybody’s attention is on the wendigo. “How about before we go to the Throne Room we get y’all re-equipped with actual proper gear? I mean, it’s today and then we’re done. The end. So! Let’s go out with a bang!”

“The idea is pretty good, as long as Momonga is okay with it,” Tabula nods, turning to the skeleton.

“Huh? Ah, no, I mean yes, I mean- I don’t mind, at all. Be my guest, god knows your gear is just collecting dust as is,” he waves his hands in the air.

“Are you taking the Staff, though?” Ulbert asks, walking over to the niche in Guild Hall’s wall behind Momonga’s seat. The Staff of Ainz Ooal Gown, fruit of hours upon hours of their joined effort levitates within the niche, all gold and fancy shapes, seven gems crowning it, each one of them overpowered, together making a weapon to go on par with World Items.

Momonga hesitates.

“Take it,” Nishki encourages, as if sensing his hesitation. “If anybody’s worthy of this thing, it’s you.”

“Guys-“

“Don’t ‘guys’ us, Momo-chan,” Bukubukuchagama scoffs. “Do your friends a favor and grab the damned, ridiculously overpowered toy and let’s go!”

Momonga still hesitates, fidgeting before the staff. It’s a pretty thing, all gold and gems and beauty, bending and splintering like a tree branch, crowned by seven jewels held in their mouths by seven snakes poking their heads out of a chalice, each gem brimming with great power on its own, reaching levels of ridiculous when together. It might not look it, all gold and glitter, but it was crafted specifically for a necromancer to use – or, more specifically, it was a custom made specifically for Momonga’s hands only. It took them months to gather resources for it, many paychecks, paid leaves and hours spent grinding for rarest of rare minerals. It was an amazing time, full of bickering and tightening bonds.

Momonga breathes out, as if steeling himself, and reaches out, grabbing the staff firmly in his fleshless hand. It looks oddly well together – his black ornate robes and the golden, jeweled tool of doom.

“Let’s teleport to the Treasury. Mausoleum is there,” he says, turning to his guildmates, and maybe he isn’t really trying to, but he looks very regal and authoritative like this, staff and all.

They move their hands almost in tandem, golden, red-jeweled rigs gleaming wickedly, shining with magic when they initiate teleport one by one, finding themselves in the Treasury without a single issue.

“Whoa,” Peroroncino breathes once they teleport, and whoa indeed. They stand among sea of gold, gems and rare artifacts yet to be used, glittering cave of which even thought would be enough to have the most avaricious of dragons salivate. The room is tall and wide, oval in shape, with columns and niches in the walls – and in the niches, the Avatara Golems, thirty-seven out of forty-one of them geared, and all of them programmed, deadly machines. Treasury was a death trap for someone who wasn’t loyal to Nazarick, Momonga made sure of that, and damned be consequences. Nazarick might fall, but nobody would tap at the true wealth it held within.

 “Damn, I’ve forgotten how amazing this place looks,” Nishki sighs almost dreamily.

“If only we could have so much cash in real life...” Takemikazuchi mutters longingly. There are various sounds of agreement – such money could get them all good houses, maybe even somewhere not as tragically polluted so that they won’t have to wear masks. Maybe somewhere where the sky is more blue than gray-brown, and a singular tree can still be seen here and there.

“Stop,” Ulbert huffs. “You’re making me feel bad about tomorrow’s world.”

“Yeah,” Bukubukuchagama agrees. “Shut up and get your gear. We’re running out of time.”

[23:21:09]

Everything just clicks when they have their full armors on, buffs and effects and all. And the picture they paint, armed from head to toe in rarest, most powerful gear they could possibly manage to find, craft and upgrade, making out every mixable stat. Even Momonga put on his full gear, ornate black robe, ridiculous shoulder-pads and all, and Jubokko put on remaining pieces of her Chameleon set. She looked like a desert nomad in it, as a contrary to Nishki’s 110% of ninja in a ninja.

“Everybody ready?” Momonga asks, and dares to turn around, only for another wave of nostalgia to hit him again, twice as strong this time. Here they are, armed and geared, as if ready for a raid. Oh what he wouldn’t give so that it were so, instead of them saying their final goodbyes.

“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Tabula replies.

“Let’s teleport back to the Round Table,” Peroroncino proposes. “And then let’s walk down to the Throne Room. How about that?”

“Oh, that’s a splendid idea!” Yamaiko answers happily, and Bukubukuchagama mutters something akin to ‘wow he actually has a good idea for once’. Ah to have siblings, what a wonderful experience. Pero was almost thirty, Buku past thirty, and they still squabbled like two ten-year-olds, if with more explicit insults flying around.

Teleporting back to the official meeting room takes no time, but it somehow feels... Better. More complete. It’s totally because they’re all geared as if ready for battle now, Momonga decides, and tries to ignore the nearly-overwhelming wave of nostalgia that crashes against him, again and again.

They move in group, vaguely reminiscent of the first time they even entered Nazarick, conquering one of the hardest dungeons with party of measly average level of seventy, and somehow managed to score whole thing at one go, all twenty-nine members of that time. It was hard, there were tears and deaths and resurrections, and some close calls and then some yelling and even borderline screeching, but it was a very team-building experience, hailing levels, new skills, new skill combos and, finally, Ainz Ooal Gown itself. They all voted Mmonga their guild leader then and there, completely unanimous.

But then, given his friendly, honest personality and strategic abilities – not on par with Punitto Moe’s, but dam near – it wasn’t really a surprise.

They arrive by the stairs, wide and marble among the columns, enough so that eight people could walk down them shoulder-to-shoulder, steps covered in lush, red fabric. This is a way down, to the lowest, tenth, level of the Tomb, where its heart – the Throne of the Kings – laid. The world item they seized as a prize for being the first to ever conquer Nazarick at first – and only one – attempt, succeeding where many who considered themselves stronger had failed. They were a might, back then, were they not? A great force to be reckoned with, a syndicate of monsters, who were treated as villains by the principle, by the moronic humanoid players.

So, to their music they danced along, akin to final bosses in the mighty dungeon, to whom nobody had managed to make way. They conquered Nazarick, remade it, and from then on, it remained forever unconquered, forever out of reach for the ‘heroes’ sharpening their teeth for it. Fifteen hundred of them tried, and fifteen hundred of them failed, against forty-one monsters and their monstrous creations.

They make it down the stairs easily, passing by a maid in the corridor. She is obviously not human, ashen skin sewn mismatched with ebony and caramel, eerily glowing yellow eyes. One of homunculus maids, equal in number to the guild members – maybe each one of them was meant to have own maid assigned to them? – with particularly intricate, well-designed dress, featuring a pretty, detailed embroidery on the apron. Whitebrim was creator of all maid uniforms of the NPCs, and his guildmates knew better than to argue with the maniac whose life motto was ‘maid uniforms are justice!’, really. Except for the Pleiades, perhaps – they were highly personalized projects, separately. Of course, everything had to be voted on by majority, but NPC visage, personality and history was business of only its creator – the real voting came in only when creator wanted to give NPC something special, say, a World Item.

They make it to the giant door without a fuss.

[23:37:25]

“Oooh, the Pleiades!” Jubokko points to the group of NPCs standing by the wall, slightly off to the great door of the Throne Room, basically right by the foot of the stairs from level nine to level ten. There’s a squadron of maids stationed there, visibly different than the one they passed. They’re geared up, armed and ready, much higher in level than the maid from before, more guard than housekeepers. The group stops before the group of battle maids, and Nishki pushes through, coming to stop before a dark-haired one in bell-shaped, armored skirt. By face, she looks as Asian as it only gets.

“My precious Nabe,” he sniffs, moving as if to pat her on the head. The game, of course, disallowing any and all interactions with NPCs other than pre-set commands, especially against anything [ **Social** ], doesn’t allow him to do it. “My masterpiece, really. I’m going to miss her.”

“I certainly share the sentiment,” Tabula admits, moving to stand next to the ninja. “I put enough thought, care and money into my creations to feel a pang of sadness at the thought of them vanishing today, just like that.”

“Well, you are a lore-freak, putting as much work and thought into your characters as you have,” Pero says with a [ **Shrug** ]. “With how much you polished your characters, I think you’re going to miss your NPCs the most. But then, my precious Shaltear...”

“We all know what you put in her settings alright!” Bukubuku hisses, moving to slap the avian with a limb-shaped blob of her body. It does two damage. “Every bit of your perversions-!”

“Sis, why you so meeeeaaaan!” avian whines like a child.

Tabula, completely ignorant of sibling’s bickering, points instead at each of the maids, naming them one by one; “Yuri Alpha, Lupsergina Beta, Naberal Gamma, Shizu Delta, Solution Epsilon, Entoma Vasilissa Zeta. And, of course, Sebas Tian.”

“Oh, Touch Me made him, didn’t he?” Ulbert says, and Momonga sighs. Ulbert and Touch Me have always been complete opposites, always a bone to pick, and in many ways way, way worse than Pero and Buku’s sibling bickering, or Jubokko’s and Nishki’s ‘who’s-better-at-killing-things’ assassin rivalry. Ulbert was very insistent on being them most dramatic, edgy, villainous villain ever, while Touch Me was one of the most positive guild members, and a bit rescue-crazy at times. Hero of Justice, that one.

So, yes. It caused... Frictions. Ains Ooal Gown members learned very fast that while Pero and Buku, and also Jubokko and Nishki, can be easily left alone and work together as a semi-coherent unit in need, then Touch Me and Ulbert should not be left alone together without supervision.

Ever.

Even now, with Touch Me absent, Ulbert sounded antagonistic and even eager to pick a bone with Touch Me’s **NPC**. _What the hell_.

“Mhm,” Jubokko hums in confirmation, ignoring Ulbert’s antagonistic tone with proficiency that only comes with years of practice. “From what I know, and I video-chatted with Touch Me once or twice because mostly work, Sebas looks just like him. I mean, give-or-take twenty years older, but, yeah. I could totally see Touch Me aging up to look like that. Gray hair, some wrinkles and here you go. Oh, and the beard. Touch Me doesn’t do facial hair, at least as far as I know.”

“Huh,” Momonga opens Sebas’ control panel, scrolling through the settings. “Woah! His karma is { **Positive-300** }. I did not expect that.”

“Hey, really?” Takemikazuchi booms, audibly surprised. “That’s, like... Wow. For anybody in Nazarick.”

“Obviously he would make a bloody hero, huh,” Ulbert mutters, but everybody skillfully ignores him trying to somehow provoke a fight with, or over, Touch Me’s NPC. It’s years of practice at this point.

But he was somewhat right – Ainz Ooal Gown was a guild of monsters, after all. And, true, many members had largely neutral karmic affinity, but many also had negative affinity – like Momonga, Ulbert and Jubokko, to name the lowest of low of karmic pits, the negative-five-hundreds – while only few had actually somewhat positive affinity. Touch Me, obviously, if there were to be examples of high karma, and Yamaiko, but that was due to her half-angelic nephilim nature combined with her maxed out Healer classes. Pero was largely neutral, and so was Takemikazuchi, whilst Nishki was dragged down to negative section by his Assassin class. Tabula, as a Brain Eater was somewhere in the lower-middle of the negative section only because his Alchemist class was dragging him up to semblance of neutrality ( _otherwise he would be negative-negative for sure_ ), similar to Buku, dragged up by her Guardian classes despite being a Slime and therefore originally placing somewhere in negative-four-hundreds.

Momonga, as a undead Necromancer lich, Ulbert as a literal king of hell and Jubokko, not only as an Assassin but also simply as a Wendigo with the cannibalistic nature had nothing of karmic positivity going for them. Literally nothing. Were they actually real and not just beloved game avatars, they would make really great, remorseless villains, mad-cackling, world-domination-plotting and all that jazz.

(Ulbert for sure would have a field day with that, and Jubokko usually played along if she was interested. As for Momonga... Well, they did need someone responsible for damage control, so there’s that. Which was really amusing to most, because Momonga was the youngest of the trio and yet the most responsible, while Jubokko, the oldest, tended to have the craziest ideas when properly motivated.)

NPCs, of course, usually reflected that, like Tabula’s Albedo or Ulbert’s Demiurge with their Extremely Evil alignment, or Bukubuku’s elf twins, with their { **Negative-100** } evil-but-neutral karma.

“Hey, Juu, doesn’t your Mikail also have really positive karma, though?” Yamaiko asks.

Jubokko stops. She turns, looks at Yamaiko and then blinks owlishly and whines in the most pathetic way she probably can muster. She manages to sound like a kicked puppy.

“I can’t fucking believe I forgotten about Mikki!” she slams her forehead onto the wall, as she somehow meandered to stand by it as they talked about Pleiades. Obviously, she does zero damage to the wall, but three damage to herself. “I’m the worst NPC mom ever. Fuck.”

“It is understandable, though,” Tabula interjects. “With the reunion haze and whatnot.”

“But I’ve forgotten my Mikki!” she wails again and then points energetically at something they can’t see. Probably her interface. Her wailing is absolutely dramatic, too, truly Ulbert-worthy.  “His summoning skill is right fucking there on my fucking skill bar! Not to mention he’s first ever NPC of the guild, from when before anybody even though of capturing Nazarick! Way before Nishki scouted it for us! Bah, when the guild wasn’t even an official thing yet even! And a recycled raid boss from that Sky Temple raid, the first boss raid I participated in with you guys, and not only me! The one just after w nabbed Pero and Buku!”

“True, that,” Peroroncino nods. “Good times.”

“You don’t have to shriek, geez,” Nishki mutters, but Jubokko, predictably, ignores him.

“I seem to recall we went in the Sky Temple tragically under-level and under-geared,” Bukubuku scoffs, but she sounds more nostalgic than flippant. “That final boss was the worst thing ever to have happened to us, I think. Ridiculous defense, ridiculous offense. I could shield, but my offense stung him at best, and DPS could hit, but if they got hit...”

“Don’t,” Jubokko moans in embarrassment. “I think I died at least a dozen times. Thank fuck raid deaths don’t do level penalty like outside game world, or I’d probably get out at level ten. If I was lucky.”

Momonga and Ulbert, bloody traitors who stayed on the sidelines, safe from boss’ reach and steadily ruining his health with destructive spells of Seventh Tier or above, chuckle at her reminiscing. The two of them were probably the only ones to not die during the raid even once, with their magic and the fact that Bukubuku usually focused on guarding them, recognizing the two as the party’s main DPS at that time. She wasn’t wrong, of course, for without them the raid would have been more pain than it was.

“But the teamwork was something to behold,” Takemikazuchi laughs. “It was our second boss raid as a whole, Jubokko’s first boss with us, your and Pero’s first overall raid with us ever, and- We just clicked. Honestly, it was pretty magical, you know.”

“Oh, it sure was,” Yamaiko agrees. “But that’s how you make friends for life, isn’t it? You step into deep shit and then flail like idiots until you manage to successfully pull each other out.”

“That, I believe,” Tabula interjects, “Is the best way to forge true friendships. No real threat of dying, but it surely did not feel like just a game back then. Especially not when main boss throws a huge boulder at you, and you just know that today is not your day.”

“But the friends got your back!” Nishki says with a laugh. “Yeah, that. Good times.”

“Do we go in, though?” Ulbert asks, finally having left Sebas alone, and points at the massive door behind them. Ah, yes, that. They were going into the Throne Room after all.

“Yes, let’s go,” Momonga says, and then looks at the Pleiades. They just stand there, collecting proverbial dust. The skeleton sighs, shaking his head. This is the last day, so he might as well. There is no harm in it, is it? So he turns back to the battle maids (and butler) and commands; “<Follow>”, and they do without a word. Then, he turns towards the door, and grimaces. “Huh. Okay, Luci★Fer, without any incidents now or we’re going to be very uncool.”

And that is meet with amused and fond chuckles altogether. Well, now it’s funny, but back when Luci★Fer’s mysteriously ‘malfunctioning’ golems attacked Momonga, most of the people – including all those currently present and more – had been absolutely livid and almost removed the trickster from the guild irrevocably. He promised betterment after that and there were no accidents, but honestly, who knew with that guy at this point. He was an asshole, and most of the guild members remained leery of him from then on.

“Jubokko, what are you plotting?” Nishki inquiries with suspicion, and the wendigo huffs, flashing him a rather flippant emote of sticking a tongue out, and snaps her fingers. In a flash of pixels and a summoning circle, a NPC spawns next to her. He’s quite tall, easily reaching past his summoner’s shoulders, with long, platinum-blonde hair easily reaching his hips even in a high, slightly messy ponytail that goes through a jeweled halo floating right behind his head. His eyes are green with blue undertones, and his skin alabaster-white. He wears white-and-green outfit, with sleeveless turtleneck ad simple white pants, and a fur-lined, heavily ornate coat on top of it. On top of it all, he actually **glitters** on the edges.

Mikail is a beautiful creature, made way back when Jubokko was still in her ‘I’m more into long-haired bishounens than a full-blown teratophile’ phase.

“Ta-daaaa!” she sing-songs, bending on her knees and outstretching both of her arms in his direction. The NPC, predictably, doesn’t even blink as she wiggles her fingers at him, but follows without a word when she steps further than pre-set distance of five meters away from him.

“Sometimes I forget just how drastically different both of you are from one another,” Yamaiko mutters, looking between NPC and his summoner. Where Mikail is all bright and white and welcoming greens, Jubokko is all sharp edges, dark, ragged fabric and studded leather. Her hair is messily curly, not-quite shoulder length reddish rat-nest with two wicked, reddish horns protruding from above her elongated, elf-like ears. Her eyes grow eerie purple from where they’re seated sunken in her skull, and her skin is pale and grayish, dried out and cracked, very much like that of a few-day-old corpse freshly unearthed from its grave, stretched too-thin and dried out on her bones like that of a victim of severe famine. She’s very visibly emaciated, all thin and sharp, sunken cheeks and boney hands with elongated, black talons.

Her armor is all studded leather bodysuit hidden under additional chainmail shirt, further buried under loose, ornate maroon fabric strapped around her torso and waist to resemble a loose shirt, held together by a studded utility belt full of hanging pouches and flask-holders. She had arm- and leg-guards that looked like worn iron, worn atop the same maroon fabric of her shirt wrapped around her arms and legs, but otherwise leaving her bare-footed and largely bare-handed. One of Jubokko’s classes, the Carnage Beast, allowed for devastating attacks to be dealt by races who had considerable claws, like Wendigos, without usage of weaponry, while adding additional negative effects to the target.

“Oh look, another chicken,” Nishki quips, and Jubokko fumes.

“You’re just jealous he’s prettier than Naberal!” she snarks back automatically, and Nishkirenai honest-to-god squawks at that.

“Nabe is perfect!” he all but shrieks in defense, and Jubokko shrugs.

“I’m not saying she isn’t, I’m just saying that Mikki is still better.”

“Why youuuuu-!”

“Guys,” Momonga interjects sharply before a fight can really escalate. They’re running out of time, and he’d much rather not waste it on meaningless squabbles. “The game is shutting down soon. We have maybe fifteen minutes left, come on.”

[23:45:51]

As they walk the ornate and maybe slightly too-long throne room up to the throne itself, Ulbert falls in step with Jubokko and curiously opens Mikail’s control panel, scrolling through his statistics and information, before moving to equipment.

“Wow, he has the Suneater,” demon mutters in amazement. “Where did you get the Suneater?”

“I gave it to her,” Bukubukuchagama answers instead. “I won it along with the <<Perfect Shield>> title in that one ‘who’s best guardian in the game’ tournament, but I’m a slime and I don’t use armor, or shields for that matter. So I have it to Jubokko – she needs some way to balance for her shittiest defense ever, after all, might as well make OP guardian summon, huh?”

“Sis gave this to you for free?” Peroroncino inquiries, and Jubokko snorts something that sounds suspiciously like ‘as if’.

“I gave it to her for a favor,” Buku sniffs. “It is one of five best shields in whole game after all, I wouldn’t give it for free, even to one of my best friends.”

“Buku had me grinding that nope-raid, ‘Return of the Blight-Bringer’ with her,” Jubokko says, grimacing at the memory. It was kind of fun, perhaps, but in a very twisted, sado-masochistic way. “If not for the favor, I would stay the hell out of that valley of nope forever.”

“That’s why you were going there with us!” Pero points finger at her. “And here I thought she blackmailed you like she had me. We were supposed to be blackmailed buddies!”

“Rude,” Buku grumbles. “I merely explained what would happen to your game collection if you didn’t help your poor older sister with an arduous quest.”

“See! She’s evil!”

Momonga smiles fondly at his friends as they reach the massive, ornate Throne of Kings in friendly bickering and easy camaraderie. He knew he missed this, but hadn’t realized just how much until now, and while it would make parting even more painful in the end, he would cherish those moments forever, when last of the guild came together to bid farewell to the world that brought them together.

It felt like end of an era, and it broke his heart a little.

“Um...” he looks at the Pleiades still following him, and then at other guild members. Some chuckle at his expense, but Ulbert stage-whispers the <Stand By> release command to him, which he uses, causing the NPCs to line before the throne and out of the way.

“Albedo,” Tabula sighs nostalgically, moving towards the NPC standing right by the throne and reaching as if to tuck her unruly bangs away from her face, but the game, predictably, doesn’t allow him. One of the most powerful NPCs to ever grace the Great Tomb of Nazarick, beautiful demon-woman with probably quite nasty personality, knowing Tabula’s love for the gap-moe trope, one he put so much work and love into – and in a little over ten minutes, she will be gone. All will be gone.

“Ooo, what did you put into her description?” Takemikazuchi asks, and Tabula turns towards the warrior.

“A good portion of loyalty, pint of blind devotion, a big pinch of pushy personality, spoon of dramatics and a drop of nymphomania. I’m pretty sure there’s something borderline yandere somewhere in there as well.”

“Ooooo-“ Peroroncino starts, but Bukubukuchagama slaps him upside head once more, dealing a point of damage before he can say anything more.

“Don’t you think nymphomania is kind of, I dunno rude towards her?” Nishki asks making Tabula sigh at the ninja, and then once more when the three present females make sounds of agreement. He reaches towards the Imp and opens the control panel – he know it’s a lost fight with them.

“I can change that one line, I suppose,” he sniffs, causing few chuckles.

“You can make her sexually open but careful with her choices,” Yamaiko proposes with a shrug.

“Is in love with Momo-chan!” Peroroncino yells, making Momonga squawk and splutter, causing Buku to slap him upside head once more.

“Sexually open but with a lowkey crush on Momonga,” Ulbert says decidedly.

“When did I agree to this?” the skeleton in question whines. “Tabbu, it’s your child! Do something!”

But Tabula was already typing new information in Albedo’s biography.

“There are worse choices, Momonga-san.”

“Like who?” overlord challenges.

“Ninety-five percent of the world’s population, for example,” Tabula responds easily. “Oh, and I hope you don’t mind but I gave her Ginnungagap.”

“Oh, ok. Wait, when did we agree to this?” Ulbert asks, affronted.

“Hush you, goat cheese,” Peroroncino waves him off. “The world is ending. Let him.”

“Uh, I guess.”

“Does anybody mind?” Momonga asks other players, but no rejections come. It’s as good as regular guild voting, so he decides to let it slide. “Okay the, Albedo officially has Ginnungagap.”

He probably should sit on the throne, that was the plan, but he can’t be bothered, really, so all nine of them move to stand in a circle before the pedestal right at the feet of the throne, trade quips and jokes, wisps and shadows of once-beens and miss-yous, together and last, and for the last time.

Momonga doesn’t even bother denying that he’s crying anymore. He definitely hears Peroroncino and Jubokko sniff as well, and Takemikazuchi’s voice wavers dangerously.

[23:47:51]

“Any last words you guys?”

“I love you all,” Pero sniffs. “And nor even in R-18 way. I just, I really, really love you all.”

“Gonna miss you all, even the chicken nugget,” Ulbert quips, and then they trade mushy goodbyes, and Momonga’s eyes burn and sting and his throat is tight.

[23:59:02]

“Thus passes the glory of the world,” Tabula sighs wistfully.

[23:59:30]

“I gotta go to sleep in, like, five minutes,” Momonga sniffs. “I leave for work at four.”

(Someone grumbles at his sleeping schedule.)

[23:59:43]

“I’m going to miss you all so much you guys,” Jubokko’s whine sounds broken.

[23:59:47]

“It was fun, that time together,” Yamaiko says sadly. “I’ll miss you.”

“Same, Yama-chan,” Bukubukuchagama sighs.

[23:59:55]

[23:59:56]

[23:59:57]

[23:59:58]

[23:59:59]

\------------------

[00:00:00]

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[00:00:01]

[00:00:02]

[00:00:03]

[00:00:04]

[00:00:05]

“...?!”

“...!!”

“...??”

“...what the hell?!”

 

_thus passes the glory of the world_


End file.
